Chasing Rainbows
by melchaz
Summary: Oneshot, Teenchesters. Sam and Dean at yet another school... The whole charade is starting to wear a bit thin on Dean and he contemplates where his life is going. Sam 14, Dean 18. T for Swearing.


Dean felt ridiculously stupid. Sam, of course, had a bounce in his step which pissed Dean off even further.

'Sam, quit it.'

'Huh? Quit what?' Sam turned around and looked up at Dean.

_Crap, he's almost up to my shoulder now. He's gonna be taller than me one day_, thought Dean as he opened his mouth.

'Don't get too excited, Sammy. We'll be done here within a week.'

Sam shrugged, 'maybe. Maybe not. Dad didn't say-'

'Dad never says. Which is why _I'm_ saying. Don't get your hopes up, alright?'

'Jeez, Dean. What's your problem?' Sam looked disheartened. But Dean had to be firm with him. He put a hand on his little brother's shoulder.

'I'm sayin' don't get into trouble this time, okay? You always seem to get into trouble when we got to these places.'

'You can say '_school_', Dean, it's not a swear word.'

'It's a building where snot-nosed kids, like you, go to pay money and read books... so you can sit at a desk one day in another building and get paid money to read books.'

'There's nothing wrong with that and you know it.'

Dean snorted as Sam lifted his bag higher over his shoulder, giving him a bitch face.

'Sammy you're only fourteen. You have no idea.'

'Oh and you know so much more, do you Dean? Have you ever even _tried_ liking school?'

'Oh sure I like school,' Dean said, his eyes catching a brunette's that walked past him, giving him a wink and her friends giggled. He smiled, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother, who rolled his eyes.

'Next year you can go hunting with Dad instead,' Sam said as they started walking towards the tall, grey building again.

'I doubt that. He'll probably make me stay with Uncle Bobby.'

'There's nothing wrong with that,' reasoned Sam.

Dean nodded, 'I wish we could stay with Uncle Bobby instead of having to come to shit-holes like this.'

'You'll drive him nuts. Poor Uncle Bobby already gets enough crap from Dad; imagine one day if he'll have to put up with us as well?'

Dean smirked at the thought, 'we wouldn't do that to Bobby. When we get out of all this crap, I bet you Bobby will sell his yard and do something else with his life.'

Sam put his bag into an empty locker and Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, thinking.

'...What makes you say that?' Asked Sam.

'Hell, that's what I would do.'

Sam nodded half-heartedly, but Dean knew exactly what Sam was thinking.

Dean and Sam weren't going to get out. Talking about this kind of crap was like chasing after a rainbow, trying to find a pot of gold. It wasn't going to happen. Even when their Dad did find the monster that killed their mother, Dean knew it wasn't going to end there. All of this... this way of life. It was set in concrete now. Dean tried to imagine himself doing something else with his life... he couldn't see it. He couldn't see past the weapons in the trunk of the Impala, or past the face of his Dad, or past the image of Sammy, asleep in the backseat.

Dean was shocked out of his reverie as Sam shut the locker.

'Dean? You okay?'

Dean cleared his throat, 'Yeah. Just hungry,' Dean patted his stomach and Sam threw his bag back over his shoulder and gathered some books from on top of the locker.

'Aren't you going to go to class?' Sam asked as they walked down the hallway.

'Class? Nah. Think I might... enjoy the view,' he smirked again as he walked past the same brunette as before, but his heart wasn't in it.

'You're a dick, you know that?'

Dean raised his eyebrows, 'Me? How?'

'You could at least _try_, Dean. You're only eighteen. You can still try.'

'Try to do what?' Dean sighed.

'Build some kind of future.'

'Oh thanks for that diagnosis Doctor Sam. Are you gonna fill out my prescription now? Gonna ask me to paint my feelings?'

Sam pursed his lips, angry.

'You're such a jerk,' Sam walked away.

'Bitch,' Dean called after him. Sam didn't turn around.

Dean shook his head.

_Future? Yeah right_. Dean stalked off back towards the exit.

_What would Dad say if I started talking about some kind of future? Future of what? This _job_ is my future. Dad would say that this is what matters, not some stupid apple-pie life. Not some stupid desk job, shuffling papers and ass-kissing your way to the top. Not some breezy fun-filled family road trip._

_What would Mom say?_

_Mom would say..._

_She'd probably make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She'd kiss me on my head and tell me to stop thinking like that. She'd tell me to look after Sammy. She'd tell me that angels are watching over me._

_Yeah well, Mom isn't here, Dean. And neither is the sandwich or the apple-pie life or any damn angel._

_There's just you, Dad and Sammy. Just you three and your bleak future together... _

_The three Winchesters, saving the world._

_**Every single damn time. **_


End file.
